Easter Sunday
He is up hours before dawn come Sundays,
searching for that silent place
where anyone who is willing
can find God. The Holy Spirit
moves in and out from him,
especially on those days that begin
with calls from Mrs. Stiles,
who has her own thoughts
about his sermons, the Ladies’ Tea Club,
the meal committee, even the young
Youth Minister whose pencil moustache
is somehow the first step to evil.
But this first day of the week
belongs to Reverend Nunnelly,
whose job it is to reflect
the One and Only for a congregation
of sheep one misstep from wandering.
As he stares out into faces
he has known since childhood,
the weight of his obligation to lead
pushes down on him, pushes out
the One who really leads them,
leaving him on his knees
early Sundays, praying to be emptied
and filled with the only thing
that matters.
From his pulpit, looking in the eyes
of his forty-five-year bride, he longs
to feel for all of them the love
of a Savior who showed strength
through a willingness to die.
Ramona Levacy
April 5, 2015
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